A Shadow of Want
by My Vantilene
Summary: Naminé's fallen for Roxas. Roxas has fallen pretty hard for Naminé. Xion's fallen the hardest of all and she just can't seem to get what she wants. Roxas x Naminé, one sided Xion x Roxas, finally a Xion-POV RokuNami without Naminé-bashing.


Standard disclaimers apply.

My wrist twists strategically, concentrating the white arrow onto the 20 of the black and white dial. But before I push my thumb up to actually open my locker, my eyes wander to my side. Perfect blonde hair is illuminated by the rays of the sun streaming in through the windowed door on the end of the hall. Cerulean eyes with a saccharine syrup filling are framed by thick and plentiful lashes. Cheek bones are slanted at a perfect angle, also shining from the kiss of the sun, and I can't help but stare at Naminé. And ew, gross, before you get the wrong idea, I'm not the lesbo type. I'm the jealous type. And when the prettiest girl in school is your competition for yoursoul mate, you can't help but compulsively compare yourself to her 24/7.

"You lose again, Xion." She flippantly points out with a diamond smile. No, her teeth aren't as white as pearls. They go past that. They're diamonds with an electric brilliance that can only be replicated by her eyes.

But me and Naminé are locker neighbors that share a couple classes and, by default, friends. We used to be really good friends in third, fourth, and fifth grade. We would do sleepovers, tell secrets, that sort of thing. We didn't really have any classes together during middle school, so our friendship is just now returning after a long winter. To compensate, we have locker races. First one to get into their locker, wins.

I almost smile at the comment and remark my own tease about how I _totally _let her win — then I notice the sweatshirt she's wearing. A scowl replaces the smile and the friendly taunt I was about to utter stays in my mouth and I swallow it. I look back up at her face, remember how much prettier she is than me, then think back to the black sweatshirt she's wearing over her Abercrombie & Fitch floral undershirt. It's his sweatshirt. And — lo and behold — right as my mind whispers his name in a wistful manner, Roxas appears, giving me a "Shh!" signal and sneaking up on Naminé with a surprise hug from behind. His wonderful laugh bubbles to the surface as she releases a shriek of both happiness and shock. He lifts her up, spins her around once, then places her back down on the white tile. I slam my locker with pressurized force and a booming sound erupts from it, but no one seems to notice. My eyes trail back to him, with his free-flowing, golden tendrils sprouting out to reach the sky ambitiously, his deep azure eyes mimicking his deep and empathetic disposition, his smile that I know is always in him, and I also see that longing in his eyes is filled as he converses with his princess. What gets me most is his eyes. I can't do this with anyone else, but when I stare into his eyes, I can feel his mood. It sounds a little crazy, and I know there are no such things as empaths, but…there's just something there. I know he doesn't show it, but I can feel that tenderly emotional undercurrent of his personality. I know that lost puppy-dog feeling inside of him when Naminé can't hang out on Saturday, or can't come to one of his soccer games because of her cheerleading practice. I've mingled with that feeling of self-hatred he has when he looks in the mirror and he sees his dad. I've exchanged formalities with that burning passion that's bursting at the seams inside of him. I've meandered with that nagging sense of destiny that he can't seem to fit anywhere in his life. I've spent nights awake with his nightmares. I've had locker races with the one true thing that makes him the happiest. And, it pains me to say it, but I haven't conquered his fears with him yet. I wonder…if I can look at that glint in his eye, and see past that, into his soul…could he do the same for me?

"Haha, so it's a date. Pick you up at seven?"

Apparently not.

"Seven sounds cliché. Pick me up at six."

But don't get me wrong, I'm happy for the two of them. Actually, it's a little eerie how well they were made for each other. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Great cheekbones, nice legs. They both have practically the same perfect DNA. He's popular, she's popular. Even if you don't know them, you can just see they belong together. It was fate. Ken found his Barbie. Yip-dee-fricking-doo. Where does that leave me? Hanging out with my brother, Hope, on the weekends. Actually, Hope and Roxas's older brother, Ventus (or Ven as me and Aqua call him), are good friends, so sometimes I do get to see him out of school. And it's not like I have a problem with him not noticing me — he notices me plenty. He just doesn't notice me like _that_. Like the way he notices Naminé.

Naminé.

I think back to her. Her and her perfect blonde hair and sharp cyan eyes. My eyes are dull and lifeless and I hate my hair color. It's too dark. I've always wanted something light. Blonde — or even Riku's light hair color, even if it does have a sort of metallic sheen. Or even Kairi's, even though it's darkened considerably, maybe even Aqua's, even though I think blue eyes with blue hair is just a tad bit tacky, anything is better than having such a putrid color. Black. Like I'm someone's shadow. In a way, I guess I'm Roxas's. I'm just a shadow of want. It's slowly becoming all I think about. How I'm not her, and how I'm not his. And as I continue to stare, other people are getting their lunches or lunch money out of their lockers and heading over to the cafeteria. I guess I should follow suit. But I don't. I'm stuck there with my hand half-way in my locker, reaching around for my Batman lunch box like an idiot. My eyes trail to the black sweatshirt again. It was beautiful to me. It was more of a prestigious honor to wear than the Miss Universe crown. Yet it was black. Hmm…

Maybe it's not the color of it, but the worth of it to someone that matters. Too bad I'm not that sweatshirt, because right now I've got zero worth.

And I think back to the types of conflicts we learned about in English class. Man vs Man? Nope. It wasn't Roxas's fault, and I didn't really have the heart to blame Naminé, like I said, she's my friend and I support their relationship in my own little ways. Sometimes I try to get over my hopeless love by thinking about how happy I am that the two of them got together. Man vs Society? I guess because they're both popular, and I tend to get made fun of a lot, that society pushed them together. Man vs Nature? For once I'll leave that stupid crow that hangs out in my yard alone. Man vs Self? Actually, I think my low self-esteem is a good thing. It guarantees I'll never be arrogant or prideful, which are two qualities I can not stand in a person. I guess I could be mad at myself for not being as pretty as her, but that's not really my fault. I think that should've been put under the Man vs Nature category, truth be told. Man vs Fate? That's the one. I blame this on fate. Fate led me on. Fate taunted me. Fate ripped him from me. Fate made them _so _**PERFECT** for each other. But fate also took Roxas's dad from him. And, I guess, at the end of the day, that's what I really **detest **fate for, with a smoldering animosity that will never be quenched. Because while that longing is replaced with Naminé for a short time, his real longing, that deep hole in his heart, will never be filled. Fate left him incomplete, and fate left me incomplete, and that, above all physical appearances, social barriers, and perfect girlfriends, is what ties us together with a bond so strong, if used incorrectly could shatter a heart.

More specifically, my heart.

_AN:_

_I would've made this chapter longer (and this is not a one-shot, by the way) but I liked the nice ring the ending had. Review! Or else!_


End file.
